American Glee
by Jane High
Summary: Rachel in a Cheerios uniform? Will can already smell the sweet, pungent aroma of rose petals she's hiding underneath her top. Maybe he's been watching American Beauty one too many times...


_American Glee_

Will Schuester had spent the last hour sitting at his desk, grading papers. He used to take papers home and grade them, but he found that if he did it while still at school, he had less distractions and could finish quicker. Plus, it kept school and home life seperate, which helped keep his sanity in tact.

With the last paper finally graded, he grabbed his leather satchel and his car keys and headed out the door. The halls were empty and devoid of sound. There were no screams or squeals of teenagers, no lockers being banged excessively, and certainly no having to dodge the giant, sweaty bodies of jocks lumbering through the corridors.

Will glanced down at his watch: it was 5:15. If he hurried, he could make it home in time to watch the Tony Awards and crack open a cold beer before taking a shower and hitting the hay. But first, he had to make a quick stop.

As he approached the choir room - he wanted to grab the sheet music for next week's lesson - he noticed a figure propped up against the piano. He crossed the threshold and the backside of a slender body with black hair wearing a Cheerios uniform came into focus.

"Santana, it's late, what are you still doing here?" Will said with an impatient sigh.

He was expecting to see the tan girl's plump lips and dagger-like eyes as she turned around to face him. However, it wasn't Santana.

"Rachel?" he said incredulously, his mouth agape in astonishment.

The girl standing before him was Rachel Berry, alright, but it looked almost nothing like her. Her slim physique was often drowned in stuffy librarian sweaters and wide skirts that gave no inclination that she had hips at all. But here she was, dressed in a cheerleading uniform that perfectly accentuated her small, round breasts and wearing a skirt that would make a nun cry.

"Oh, hi Mr. Schue," she replied in an unwaveringly smooth voice. It was barely above a whisper in which she uttered the words, but they rang throughout Will's head like a siren.

It was then that he noticed the other thing that was different about this Rachel: her hair, which she normally kept down in tousled waves, was pulled up in a ponytail on her head - with just a sweeping of dark bangs above her deep, chocolate brown eyes - leaving the smooth skin of her neck completely bare.

Will realized that he still had his mouth open, so he closed his lips and cleared his throat.

"A-Are you waiting for someone?" he asked, trying to figure out a plan in his head to grab the sheet music he needed and leave as quickly as possible.

"Just you," Rachel said, turning back to the piano to grab something. Will couldn't help but glance at her slender thighs and calves before she faced him again, a small stack of papers in her hand.

"I wanted to practice a piece I've been working on," she said.

"Can it wait, Rachel? I'm kind of in hurry," Will replied. Instead of pouting like she normally did, Rachel just broaded the cherry lips of her winning smile.

"It will only take a minute, I promise," and with that, she placed the papers aside and ushered him into the room, grabbing a couple of chairs.

Will reluctantly dropped his satchel next to the piano stool and watched as Rachel positioned the chairs so that they were a foot or so apart and facing each other.

"Now, sit," Rachel said, gesturing to the chair in front of Will.

Will was already feeling uncomfortable and as he shuffled his weight from one foot to the other, he sucked air in through his teeth.

Rachel rolled her eyes and walked around to the shy teacher, placing her small, warm hands lightly on his back and propelling him forward. As they came around to the chair, she moved her hands to his shoulders and gently pushed him down into it. Finally, she came around so that she stood in front of him. She was just the right height that her chest was directly in Will's line of vision.

Will Schuester had never seen this side of Rachel. She had the very countenance of a Cheerio: one hand was on her hip, the other twirled her perfectly brushed mane, and the smirk on her face was sweet on the surface but held something darker and much more menacing underneath.

"Rachel - " Will began, trying to find someway out of this awkward situation, but the teenage girl in front of him suddenly brought her face so close to his that he could smell the sugary lip gloss that coated the soft pink flesh of her mouth. He sucked in a breath.

Her eyes bored holes into his.

"This isn't about a song, is it?" Will managed to utter, realizing her hands were clamped down onto his thighs. Heat surged through them, threatening to make his pants two sizes too small.

Rachel mouthed the word "No" and let out a light giggle. Will laughed nervously. She released her grip from his legs and stood back up. Her girlish smile faded from her face. The laughter was gone from her eyes as well, replaced now by a glimmer of seductiveness.

"What do you want, Will?" she breathed out heavily as she brought her hands up to her breasts, caressing them over the thick fabric of the Cheerios uniform.

"I-I, uh, I-" Will stuttered. He couldn't think straight. He knew he should he just get up, grab his stuff, and leave, but he couldn't move.

"Let me rephrase that. What do you want to do to me?" she said, her hands traveling down the length of her torso, gathering up the sides of her top and shimmying the rumpled fabric upwards so that he could see her navel and the smooth, supple skin of her stomach.

"Uh, um, uh, I" he continued to ramble on, bullets of sweat dripping down his temples.

Just as she hiked the uniform top up over her chest, he half expected rose petals to billow out from underneath her shirt, like the scene in American Beauty. However, the red that happened to be peeking out was her bra, not roses. Still, Will couldn't help but see the irony in the similarities and was turned on nonetheless.

Rachel dropped the shirt to the floor and without any warning, draped her legs across his as she sat down in his lap, facing him. His hands instinctively clutched her thighs and she grabbed his face in both of her palms and kissed him deeply on the mouth.

He was just getting into the rhythym of it when she pulled away and stood up. He wanted to protest but before he could, she reached under her skirt and pulled her bloomers off, dropping them in his lap as she turned around and - using the opposite chair for the first time since she had set them up - placed both her hands palms down onto the seat, sticking her behind right in Will Shuester's face.

Will sat there, mouth agape for the second time that evening.

"Touch it," she whispered.

Through the red and white flaps of her cheerleading skirt, Will could see the pale pink flesh of her dimpled bottom. Saliva pooled in his mouth, threatening to drip down from his lips as he reached out a hand, slowly and steadily, towards her behind.

It was inches at first, and then mere centimeters before his fingertips grazed - RRRRIIIIIINNNNNGGGGGG!

Will's head shot up from it's resting place on his hard, wooden desk. There were still several papers left to grade. His mind was racing with the last few moments of his dream.

He sighed, relieved. It was only a dream.

He gathered the papers on his desk into one pile and started shoving them into his bag. _Screw this_, he thought,_ I'll just finish them at home_.

He was about to grab his car keys when a single red rose petal landed on his hand. He picked it up with his other hand and examined it. His eyes grew wide as several others fell into view on his desk, before he looked up.

On the ceiling, thousands upon thousands of rose petals gathered, stuck there as if by some kind of reverse gravity. And in the middle, lying starkingly naked, save for a few petals placed meticulously over her lady parts, was his ex-wife, Terri.

She smiled maliciously and giggled. Will screamed.

This time, when he woke up, he was on his couch at his apartment, alone. A couple of beer bottles were on the coffee table, one still half-full. He propped himself up with a cushion and wiped the sweat droplets from his forehead with the edge of his old, grey shirt.

"Thank you for watching the 2012 Tony Awards!" a male announcer said on the television, "Tune in for the ten o'clock news-" Will took the remote and hit the power button, silencing the man.

Will dragged himself into the shower, letting the warm water wash away his erotic and terrifying dreams. He dressed in a clean shirt and boxers and got into bed, pulling the soft sheets up around his body. He sighed and clicked off the bedside lamp.

_Yep_, he thought, _just another eventful Friday night_, and he let the still darkness drift him off into a peaceful night's sleep.


End file.
